Page 65 of Playing With Fire

“I wanted to sue, but Daddy talked me out of it, even though we have a clear case of slander. That newspaper has gone straight downhill since Jodi Ruskin took over, and my father said he is very tempted to call the owners direct.”

“Libel, not slander,” murmured Ricky.

“Whatever,” said Bonnie breezily. “I’m so glad you agree Ricky. And I’m touched that you came all the way out here to see if I was okay. You could have just called, really.”

The steel band which had been around Ricky’s chest since reading the online story at the crack of dawn, tightened another notch.

“I was surprised to see the story,” he said truthfully. “My concerns were more about confidentiality than...er...factuality.”

Bonnie’s cupid lips formed an ‘O’ of surprise, and he hastily added, “Of course, that line about you was uncalled for. Pure speculation.”

She pouted. “I really had to go into bat for you Ricky. Daddy is pretty annoyed. He does have the elections coming up, so it is super important that the proper authorities have control over what information is released to the press. I don’t know what they do in New York, but here in Temple Mountain you can’t ride rough-shod over people’s reputations.”

Ricky dredged up a rueful smile. “I know you’ll understand, Bonnie, but I do need to ask about the...er...speculation. Have you been talking to the twins?”

Her eyes widened, and he could almost see the cogs moving in her brain. She looked slightly affronted.

“Of course I’ve spoken to them. Everyone around here knows those boys. They were with the Andersons last year—they take in a lot of foster kids out on their property just south of town. Daddy reckons the Andersons are survivalists. Or is it preppers? Anyways, I caught those boys teasing a cat one day when I was walking through the park. So I put a stop to it straight away. I can’t bear animal cruelty.”

She batted her considerable eyelashes. Ricky forced a bland smile. His stomach was beginning to cramp. If the boys were hurting animals, then they might already be on the road to being full-blown arsonists.

Bonnie posed, one finger on her dimpled chin. “Hmmm...and was there another time? Maybe. I did try to be friendly, since I know those boys have been through such a lot.” She leaned forward, and Ricky focused his gaze on her face to avoid peering into a generous slice of bosom.

He caught a waft of scent. Bonnie’s large and expressive eyes grew conspiratorial.

“Daddy said I wasn’t to speak to you about this, but I don’t hold what happened against you. I admire a man who takes his job seriously—and I know my father does too. He’s already said what a bright future he sees for you here in town.”

Ricky swallowed a snort of disbelief. Was the Chief suggesting that his assistant might someday move on from chasing dogs and rooting around in trash cans? Perhaps Ricky would be put in charge of chasing stray moose away from the highway. Maybe a stint overseeing the sorting line at the recycling plant out of town.

“They’ll be looking for a new chief real soon, Ricky.” Bonnie’s voice turned playful. “Naturally the current Fire Chief will have a lot of say over the appointment. And I know I’m looking at the obvious candidate right now.” She stared into his eyes meaningfully.

Ricky was briefly speechless. Not because the prospect of staying in town, of being the guy with the Smokey the Bandit hat and the lunches at the golf club didn’t have some sneaking appeal, but because the image of Leroy saying anything like that was as close to reality as the Chief inviting him around for a beer so Ricky could explain how the fire department needed a complete overhaul.

Before he could formulate any kind of reply that didn’t contain the word bullshit, there was a preemptory rap on the window. An elderly man, bald as a badger and waving hello.

Ricky stared. Tom Caitens? How had the chunky trucker with the cheerful glint in his eye and the full head of salt and pepper curls turned into this old guy?

Ricky waved back, and made to rise from his seat.

No mystery really, he thought with sudden insight. He would get over Chrissie’s death. The sorrow and regret would fade over the years. But for a parent, grief was like a cancer, invading the mind and infiltrating the lifelines of the heart until it was part of the living, breathing tissue.

He cleared his throat. “That’s my appointment, come to find me,” he said with false cheerfulness.

Bonnie’s eyes narrowed, but she flashed him a slow smile.

“Nice talking to you Ricky. I know you don’t believe me.” She paused, and Ricky stopped, hand on the door. “My father and I both want what’s best for this town, and I’m guessing you do too. City folks don’t realize how much small towns suffered during the pandemic. People were cold because they couldn’t afford heat, jobs disappeared, some folks had to go on welfare—and I’m telling you that about broke their hearts. Some couldn’t afford the medical bills. People left town, went to stay with family.”

She nodded towards the window. Ricky looked past Tom Caitens to the community bus disgorging a dozen cheerful residents, their arms full of shopping bags. “Town’s getting back on its feet, finally. Tourists coming back, family visiting, new businesses open.”

Ricky braced himself for what he knew was coming, and yeah, Bonnie had a point.

“Temple Mountain cannot afford bad publicity, Ricky. Talk about arsonists, fires at the retirement center, that feeds into social media and we’re finished.”

He nodded.

Her last words followed him outside.

“We’re on the same side here, remember that.”

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